Status Updates From Blood Island

Now he had no choice but to wait for the sharks to reach him and begin tearing mouthfuls of meat from his body. He hoped they’d be quick about it, but this was going to be the climax of Inez’s “movie,” and he knew she would milk his dying for all it was worth. His death would be messy, slow, and agonizing. He almost wished someone was filming this. It was going to be spectacular.

No response. She was lying on her side, her back to them, and Jarrod reached out, took hold of her shoulder, and gave her a gentle shake. She rolled over – no, she flopped – onto her back, and when she did, Jarrod saw that her forehead was missing, as if the skin and bone had been eaten away by acid, and her skull was hollow. He cried out in horror and fell back on his ass.

Looking back now, all those special effects looked like the efforts of kids making their own amateur horror videos. She thought those effects were made to look fake on purpose, to insulate audiences, protect them from thinking they were seeing the real thing. If she managed to survive this night, she vowed never to make another goddamned horror film again.

They passed a number of landsharks. Most of them were either carrying severed body parts to the Mass or, having already delivered their loads, had returned to the land in search of more. She saw few people and fewer vehicles, but she heard shouts and screams, footfalls as people ran, tires screeching. It seemed plenty of prey remained in the area for the Hunters to chase.

“Is it going back to the Mass?” he asked. “Yes. All the sharks are attached to it by those cords.” Pete scowled at her. “You really expect us to believe you’re some kind of psychic?” he said. “I don’t have to expect anything. I know you all believe. Besides, is my being psychic any more fucked up than a bunch of homicidal landsharks?” “No,” Susan said. “It’s actually pretty normal compared to that.”

She broke off, eyes widening. She pointed to the opposite side of the roof and screamed. Everyone, even Boyd, looked where Shari was pointing and saw a pair of landsharks climbing over the building’s edge and onto the roof with their tiny insect feet, umbilical cords trailing behind them.

He’d most likely end up in a landshark’s belly before the night was over. That, or be fed to this Mass Tasha had spoken of. He didn’t know which would be worse – being eaten alive by his own renegade body or by mutant sharks. The sharks, he supposed, but that didn’t mean he wanted to find out.